“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Elijah asks me, running a finger across my arm.
I laugh as it raises the hairs on my arm, tickling me. “I have to go,” I say, although I don’t want to. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”
“Never,” he growls lightly, and he wraps me in his arms. I giggle and bury my head against his chest for a moment. But then I sigh and push away from him.
“You sure? It’s been almost twenty four hours… pretty sure even Petra was sick of me after like half that,” I say.
That’s true, I was, Petra offers.
There was ever a moment you weren’t sick of your human? Lucky, counters Mason, Elijah’s wolf.
“Shut it,” Elijah says teasingly. “And you, too,” he says, pecking me on the lips. After a moment, he releases the warm hug he was holding me in. I sigh, reluctant to actually get up,
